My due date is two months from now. I'm going to be a mom in two months (give or take a couple of weeks). This seems crazy to me. Who thought it would be a good idea to give me a tiny little person to take care of? I'm excited and overwhelmed...and so not ready. She has a crib and a carseat...and Adam and I. I guess that's all she really needs. And we are slowly collecting other useful items to help us care for our daughter.
We were counting family members a while back and realized that our baby will be the 13th on Adam's side and the 9th on my side. We took this as a good omen. Those are our numbers (from our more athletic days). Does this matter at all? Of course not. But we still decided that it must mean something good.
I resemble a watermelon smuggler. I can barely believe I will actually be getting bigger over the next two months. I feel pretty near maxed out. The vastness of my belly is getting pretty uncomfortable. More when she feels like tumbling around and playing punchy kicky. She's super active...not that I have anything to compare her to...but she's pretty much always in my business.
My right ribs will never be the same. I injured them several years ago in a surfing mishap and my genetics are like the opposite of that magic wolverine healing power...it's more like, you'll never be the same again power. But between my expanding belly and abusive baby, the ribs on the right are super tender and uncomfortable. Leftys are pretty much fine.
I dabble in the art of giant cankle making. They come and go. My shoes fit differently every day. The bad days are kinds gross. My wedding ring still fits though!
When I'm sick (the past week), I sleep like it's my job. There's a whole new lack of energy I've never experienced before. I could literally sleep all day long and have certainly tried to. But I'm on the up and up and am not such a blob these days.
I have the greatest husband in the world. He tells me I look cute pregnant. He feels the baby move and says it's cool (even though I'm sure there's a part of him who feels it's a bit alienish). When I wake up in the night, he gets really concerned...and I get up in the night pretty much every night. He makes me chose everything (dinner, activites, etc.) because he wants to accomodate how I'm feeling. He goes to the fabric store with me all the time. And he never complains. Even if I can't make up my mind and we're there for hours. He rubs my feet/belly/neck. He tells me my newly acquired stretch marks aren't gross..."they aren't that bad...you can barely see them...they'll probably fade...I still think you're pretty." He is the best. Best husband. Best friend. Just plain old best guy ever. And he'll be the best dad. In just two months!
*I'll update with pictures from my recent shower with my family and pics of what I've made and such in the near future. That'll make up for my current lack of pictures, I hope*